Doctor O: Beth – Session Eight

Doctor O: Beth - Session EightI met her; I almost love her. There’s a connection with Janice that my predecessors recognize but could never define beyond instinctual. Guess our DNA must mesh. This isn’t anything I want or need at this point in my life. The kicker? Her husband’s uncle–the divorce attorney–is someone I’m all too familiar with (Matt Landry), and the hate between us runs deep. The women I attempt to rescue often get dragged under by this beast as he exclusively defends scumbag, deadbeat husbands.

I’m not sure how much of my history with Landry or my actual relationship status I’ll share with Janice. Women share everything. Beth would feast on the news. This is a treacherous road, but I’d love nothing more than to rescue Janice for my pleasure while delivering a grand “fuck you” to Landry.

“Gee, doc, you seem to be glowing. Are you pregnant?”

“Very funny.”

“How was your get-together with Miss Janice?”

“Fine, and we’re not going to speak any further on that matter.”

“Suit yourself. She says you’re a great kisser. I knew it.”

“Beth, …”

“I know. Fine. What you wanna talk about?”

“Did you have any dates this week?”

“Mm, hmm.”

“One? Two?”



“Yep. I actually had two in one night. How ya like me now?”

“Any keepers?”

DOCTOR’S NOTE: My cell phone is vibrating in my pocket. Third time in the last five minutes.

“Oh, I’m definitely keepin’ one around, maybe two.”

“Well, that’s not bad–two out of four.”

“I know. I gotta tell you about this one guy, though. Man, what a trip! I met him for coffee, we chatted, and he was nice enough so we exchanged numbers. Guess what the fool sent me less than an hour after he got my number?”

“A proposal?”

“Almost. A naked picture of his silly ass. He had these tight underwear on and I could see his package … shit, let me go get my phone, and I’ll show ya.”

“That’s OK. I’ve seen a few packages in my time. Tell me about the keeper.”

“Bartender. He has no hair on his body at all. At first it was strange, but I got used to it. Lord, was he lovin’ my girls, if you know what I mean. He had this thing where he wanted me to hold them together while he got busy.”

“You enjoyed that too?”

“Sure, whatever gets it hard. He has a great one–got this banana bend in it, so it hits me just the right way.”

“Can you see yourself dating him?”

“Dating? Hell, no. He just texts me late-night, when his shift is done. I unlock the door and wait for him to come have his chocolate.”

“So, you’re just going to be sex buddies.”

“Yep. Works for me.”

DOCTOR’S NOTE: Now, someone’s knocking.

“I’m sorry. Let me see who this is.”

Ronnie is at the door and he insists we talk immediately. It’s not like him to barge in on me. I tell him to give me a minute.

“Beth, it seems I have a bit of an emergency to deal with. Would you mind if we cut this session short? I won’t charge you for this one.”

“You OK, doc?”

“I’m fine. A friend needs my help.”

“Ah, no problem, darling. I’ll see you next week.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

Ronnie enters, agitated.

“Dude, you can’t interrupt a session.”

“Was that John’s wife?”

“Yes, why?”

“Great timing. Seems our suspicions about our friend in blue were justified.”

“He took the money?”


“How’d you find out?”

“He took a little trip to the casino yesterday. Blew it all on poker, a one-hour companion, and a bottle of Maker’s Mark which accompanied him into a guardrail.”


“Here’s the kicker: His fellow five-o from one town over are not big fans of our local boys. They cuffed him, tossed him in the back of the squad car, and then searched his SUV. Guess what they found.”



“His gun?”


“What, Ronnie?”

“A driver’s license.”


“Not his license–the license of one recent suicide victim.”



“You think he’s going to talk?”

“Rick’s a smart guy and a good liar. My bet is he either clams up or comes up with something. Let’s hope they buy it, because if my name comes up in this, it won’t end well for him.”

“Is he still locked up?”

“No, he got out this morning. I’m going to pay him a visit next. Just wanted to check with you first to see if you have any ideas.”

“He got the fucking money, that should be enough. I can’t believe he would take us down.”

“Like I said, that’s not going to happen. He’ll be swimming off the same fucking bridge.”

“Jesus, Ronnie. This was supposed to be so easy. Beth’s husband triggers the trap, pays the price, and goes away quietly.”

“Well, he went away with a splash, and our greedy friend blew all the fucking money.”

“Any chance it wasn’t John’s money?”

“The pit boss said he was betting five hundred a hand.”

“You should go see him and find out where his head’s at. Maybe now that he’s caught, he’ll take the hit.”

“He’s going to have to explain why he has John’s license.”

“What if he says he found it at the jump site? When he called me from there, he said he told the chief he was investigating the scene.”

“I guess that could work.”

“Straighten his ass out–obviously, nowhere around me.”

“Oh, I will.”

Diagnosis: I need to screen my partners better. Having a badge in play is key. I’ll payroll another. Meanwhile, if I’m implicated, I’m fucked. The smart thing to do would be never see Beth or Janice again.

Treatment: I need a strong drink and a long vacation with a certain woman.

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Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.